The Hermit, a MacGyver story
by judybear236
Summary: When our favorite troubleshooter is injured, who is this suspicious man who comes to his aid? Is he to be trusted?
1. Chapter 1

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Takes place near the end of the series; skews Mac's early history a little bit, but adds much to it. Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain.

Chapter 1.

The rolling hills of northern Minnesota were as close to heaven as any person could imagine here on earth, from the stream tumbling alongside of the dirt roadway to the occasional eagle soaring overhead. _My kind of office!_ Thought MacGyver as he studied the maps laid out on the hood of his jeep. The door to his jeep was open revealing a knapsack and a sample case on the floor and his jacket thrown casually across the seat. He shook his head slightly, comparing some aerial photos to the topo quad and the readings on his GPS unit scowling, "Nah. That can't be right? Where…?"

He reached across the hood for something with his right hand and froze, in pain. Grabbing his right shoulder, he tried to move but only caused more pain. "What did I do now? Agh!" He suddenly had a puzzled look on his face and pinched his right hand, then raised it a few inches with his left hand and let go – and it dropped onto the work surface. He painfully straightened up and noticed a red stain spreading across his shirt. "What?!" Opening his shirt he found a small metal object – an arrowpoint – just protruding from his skin from the INside, blood oozing around it. "Aw! AW, No!"

He moved himself to shelter on the far side of the jeep, or so he hoped, just as another arrow landed nearby. He looked at his shirt again; half of the right side of his shirt was now red. Squinting his eyes, he scanned the area around him, but could see nothing but woods. "Gotta get help," he murmured as he tried to get into the jeep, but too much of the arrow shaft was protruding from his back. He tried to reach it, but gave up. He belatedly removed his belt to use as a sling for his useless right arm, then dug the long handled pruners from the back of the jeep, but couldn't position them to any good purpose. He retrieved his papers from the hood of the jeep, awkwardly dodging two more arrows in the process. Looking at the trajectory of the arrows he could see that the shooter was making their way around to his side of the jeep. He had to hurry. He wedged the arrow shaft between the car's roll bar and door frame and braced himself, thinking, _ There's gotta be a better way! _

Another arrow landed at his feet. Frantically he again braced himself against the jeep and with a cry of pain, twisted hard, snapping off about half of the shaft – enough to allow him to shakily get into the drivers' seat. Another arrow hit the side of the car before he could get the keys into the ignition and start the car, bumping the end of the arrow shaft against the seat of the car and yowling in pain once more, "YAGH!" before grabbing his arm and leaning forward, trying to keep control of the car.

Beyond MacGyver's view, high up on the hillside, an archer was taking aim toward the clearing when a glint of sunlight blinded him. He rubbed his eyes and shifted position – and was again blinded. In fact, it didn't seem to matter where he stood, the sun followed. He then saw a figure approaching him, silhouetted by the late afternoon sun. The shooter turned and ran. The other figure, replacing a small mirror into his pocket, headed for the clearing.

MacGyver got no more than thirty yards before crashing into a tree, banging his head against the windshield hard enough to break the glass.

::: Well, that's the opening scene. R & R if you like (I'd like!)

**Topo quad** is a United States Geological Survey (USGS) topographical map quadrangle


	2. Chapter 2

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain.

Chapter 2.

The figure from the hillside approached the jeep at a trot. Now, in normal light, he appeared to be a Native American, although his wavy hair suggested mixed parentage. He stood a little over six feet tall, was slim, muscular and self-assured. He went immediately to MacGyver and examined him. MacGyver, not fully conscious, resisted at first, weakly. But the man's touch was insistent and expert, and MacGyver had no choice but to submit to his probing.

"Whoa there, Little Brother, … shh … I'm here to help you. Shh, shh… Easy…"

Weakly, Mac murmured, "My arm … can't feel it …"

To which the man responded affably, "Hush now, that's OK. We'll take care of that later. Right now I need your help. Can you lean up against the steering wheel here?" Mac pulled himself closer to the wheel, grasping it with his left arm. "Good … very good. Now hold on and don't let go …" He used the pruner to cut off the protruding end of the shaft. "There!"

Mac, still clutching the wheel, hollered, "AAGH! Ohh!...Ugh…" before turning to look at the man, his eyes tearing up. "Who… are you?" before passing out.

The man used MacGyver's blanket and rope to fashion a sling to carry him in. Two pairs of hands carried MacGyver on two pairs of feet up the hill and beyond to a cabin. One of the pairs of boots was decorated with colorful wheels worked in thread.

Mac was brought into a cabin whose isolation and the simplicity of its furnishings would suggest that its occupant was a recluse. But the wealth of medical equipment and other instruments on shelves that covered some of the walls would also suggest that he was a physician – among other things.

MacGyver moaned as they laid him on the plank table in the center of the room.

The man who rescued him appeared to be the owner of the cabin, the Hermit. He went to a long counter on one side of the room and busied himself scrubbing his hands and making a potion, instructing the other person to "turn on both of the lights and be careful he doesn't roll off. Just hold him on his side... and see if you can't start cutting those clothes off of him."

The Hermit brought a cup to MacGyver and rolled him slightly onto his back and raised his head, "Little Brother? Can you hear me?"

Mac looked up, regarding the man through narrow slits, "Ugh."

The Hermit held the cup to Mac's lips, "I want you to drink this … drink."

MacGyver obeyed and almost immediately slipped into oblivion. The hermit lit some incense and after making other more conventional preparations, set to work on his patient.

So, who is this Hermit? Friend? Foe? Stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain.

Chapter 3.

While the hermit operated on his shoulder, his assistant rearranged some of the cabin furniture to set up another bed for Mac. The assistant then helped the hermit to pack and bandage the wounds and to move him to the bed. After cleaning himself up, the clock on the shelf chimed 1:30 (A M) as the hermit fell asleep in one of the room's two Morris chairs.

Just as the sky began to lighten, silhouetting the treetops visible through the window, the patient began to stir. The hermit roused himself and poured out a portion of the potion that he had mixed the night before and took it to Mac, putting the cup to his lips, "Here you go, Little Brother. Drink." Mac complied and went back to sleep. Over the next couple of days he was periodically given more of the drug, after which the Hermit checked and sometimes changed Mac's dressings. When Mac's temperature spiked, both the Hermit and his assistant took turns sponging him down. During quiet spells they retrieved Mac's papers and samples and the Hermit began running tests on the samples and filling in some of Mac's paperwork, making notes and corrections on his maps.

A few days later, the Hermit again brought some of the potion to Mac and put it to his lips, "Here's some more, Little Brother." But MacGyver weakly turned his head and wouldn't drink.

"What is that stuff?"

The Hermit set the cup down, ignoring his question. "As you wish."

"Need some answers… Who are you? Where am I? How long…?"

The Hermit smiled almost imperceptibly, "Whoa there. One at a time. I'm a doctor – Dr. Fox – but you can call me 'Doc', or 'Martin', or 'Merlin'… you know? Like Merlin the Magician?"

Mac closed his eyes in weakness and frustration, "Where?"

"OK then… This is my home," Doc told him. "You rest now," and he walked away.

"Was I really shot with an arrow? Or just a bad dream?"

"Huh! It's not a bad dream," Doc assured him. "Pretty lucky too. If you'd been standing up instead of bending over you'd be dead now."

Mac paused to catch his breath, "How bad?"

"Hmm, bad enough. The most serious damage is to an artery. I spliced it as best I could, but you've lost a lot of blood and you're going to have to stay very quiet for awhile to let that artery heal. So you just rest now…."

Mac tried to rise up, but was stopped by the pain, "How long…? AGH!"

Doc returned to Mac with the cup, "I can see that the only way to keep you quiet is with this. Now drink." Mac resisted at first, then drank – but only half of the potion and could distantly hear the Doc saying, "Good. Very good." as he drifted off to sleep. Several hours later he began to dream…

_As a boy of about six, he was running after an older boy with black, wavy hair, a Native American about ten years older than himself, crying and calling out, "Marty! No! Don't go! Come back! MARTY!"_

Mac woke with a start at the sound of his own voice calling, "Marty!" and a jolt of pain in his shoulder, confused at his surroundings. As he caught his breath he noticed Doc staring at him, concerned. "Ugh. Bad dream."

"I can see that," Doc said hesitantly. "Are you OK?"

"Ah-h-yeah."

Doc got up from the table where he'd been writing, "I, uh, have to go out …" and went out the back door. Once outside he collapsed onto the stoop, his face showing a mixture of pain, confusion, and barely restrained grief. Picking up his axe, he went to work off some of his anxiety, for that is what he'd been feeling, by making wood for the fires. But the harder he worked, the more agitated he became until he had to douse himself with a dipper of cold water. He sat back down on the porch and buried his face in his hands.

Coming back inside – and making sure that MacGyver was again asleep – he took a book down from a shelf: "1966" printed on the spine; a high school yearbook. Keeping one eye on his patient, he paged through it until he found what he was looking for and compared it to the form asleep across the room. It was a high school picture of MacGyver. He closed the book and hid it under the mattress of his cot before turning back to his patient, obviously shaken.

R & R if you'd like!


	4. Chapter 4

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain.

Chapter 4:

Four men were in conference in a large Minneapolis meeting Room, with copies of the _Minneapolis Tribune_ and the _St. Paul Herald _spread open on the desk and the leather sofa. The men were poring over maps, charts, blueprints and drawings. One drawing was of a large round structure surrounded with arched windows and entitled "Casino Casablanca". Another drawing was of a labyrinthine complex called "Islander Hotel". One of the topo quads had a lake drawn in and named "Tahoe East". A plat book was lying open on the table and the men were comparing it to the map showing the drawn-in lake. In the plat book, properties abutting the proposed lake were tinted in either pink or lavender.

A tall, slim, blonde man – one who smiles too much but not with his eyes – was saying, "What about this Lewis place? Was that closed yet? Dave?"

Dave was a dark-haired, middle-aged man, about sixty pounds too heavy for his frame, with a nervous habit of toying with his moustache. He tapped the pink colored square on the map, "Not yet. The old man is having second thoughts about leaving."

"Have you tried the offer I suggested?" asked the blonde man.

"Yes, of course. The son-in-law was all for it, but the old man didn't care about all that modernization; he has sentimental attachments."

The blonde man smiled condescendingly, "Well, since the old man no longer owns the place, there should be no problem?"

Dave scowled and grumbled, "It's that new guy, the one from California, he's been stirring up trouble, asking a lot of questions. Now the Johnsons want out and …

A thin man with sandy hair and a dark moustache interjected, "Robert? I thought you took care of that matter?"

The blonde man, Robert, replied grimly, "I have. We should have no more interference from Mr. MacGyver."

"Good. Edward? How are you coming with your project?" Edward, a distinguished looking man in his mid to late fifties, with thick, wavy white hair, spoke with a slightly eastern accent: "Almost there. We have all but Congressman Hughes in our corner and my sources tell me that he has quite a few skeletons in his closet. He should be no problem."

"Excellent. Is that it then?"

"Robert," said the thin man conspiratorially, "There was one item I'd like to take up with you privately?"

"Of course," he intoned. "Well, I guess that's it, gentlemen? Until next week then?"

Once the others had left and the doors were closed, the thin man indicated the second of two pink areas on the map. "I understand that there's a crazy old man, a hermit, living there who has no intention of leaving. His property includes the high ground we've earmarked for the hotel plus two-hundred additional acres. See what you can do about him?"

"With pleasure. Same arrangements as before?"

The thin man nodded with a glint in his eye.

"I'll let you know when we've closed on that piece," Robert said as left the room.

The thin man swept his fingers across the map, a greedy smile on his face. "Almost there!"

Uh-Oh! Looks like big business is after some prime property! R& R if you'd please?


	5. Chapter 5

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain.

Chapter 5:

After a few more days our troubleshooter was feeling much improved. Still in bed, but with his head and shoulders elevated with pillows so he could see around the room. He could also see Doc, his back to his patient, washing up at the drysink. His back was criss-crossed with scars and both arms showed evidence of wicked looking injuries. Suddenly the Doc became alert and turned to look at MacGyver – who had closed his eyes. He coughed lightly, then moaned as if he was just waking up, giving the Doc time to put on a shirt.

Doc then turned around to face his patient while buttoning his shirt, "Good morning!"

"Is it morning again already? What day is it?"

"Today, of course!" the Doc said, bringing over a basin of warm water.

"No, I mean on a calendar … the date?"

The Doc busied himself washing Mac, "Now, why would you …? Oh! That! Well, you needn't worry. Your reports got in on time."

"What do you…? My WHAT? But you can't …."

Mac tried to sit up but the Doc pushed him back onto the bed with the wet washcloth. "Ho, but I did! I ran your tests, filled out your forms, corrected the maps and sent it all to your Phoenix Foundation… Do you know the story of the Phoenix?"

Mac was so flustered he couldn't even speak coherently, " No. You … I…"

Doc dumped out the used water and filled the basin with warm water from the stove and picked up some shaving gear before returning. "Well there was this bird that…"

Mac tried once again to get up, "No, NO! I mean the repor …dyah!"

Doc gently pushed Mac back against the pillows, "You really must stay still for a while longer, Little Brother."

Mac got an odd feeling and looked curiously at Doc, "Agh… how long have I been here?"

As Doc began to shave him, "Oh, about a week."

"A WEEK?" he asked, turning his head quickly to look at Doc.

Doc quickly pulled the razor away from Mac's face, "Hey! This thing is sharp, you know! Hold still!"

Mac, looking a bit sheepish, settled back , "Sorry… Strange that whoever was after me hasn't figured out where I am, and come after both of us?"

"Hah! And they won't either!" Doc exclaimed, "Not for some time, anyway. You see, they call me 'Merlin' because they think I'm a sorcerer! They're afraid to come around here uninvited!"

MacGyver gave him a look that said "Get Real!"

"Yeah, well…," Doc continued, "But I do have some surprises waiting out there for them, so it'll take some time … Don't worry!", this last in answer to Mac's deepening scowl, "We'll think of something!"

"WE?"

Doc, a bit cocky, with a flourish of the razor as he finished, "Yeah!"

So what does Doc have in mind? LOL. I'll bet Mac's wheels are spinning! R & R, please!


	6. Chapter 6

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

**AN: **Just to let you know, this story is a re-write of a TV script that I wrote about 30 years ago. My agent submitted it along with two others to Paramount Studios, but we were told that the MacGyver series had been discontinued. So I have finally been encouraged to re-format the stories and submit them here. Hope you enjoy them!

Chapter 6

Mac looked exasperated. "Hey, the reports, remember? Just WHAT DID you do? You say you tested the samples? Can you tell me what you tested and what you found?"

Doc grinned with a little embarrassment, "Well, I tested for atrazine and E. Coliform, of course: negative; sulfides: negative; dissolved oxygen: high side of normal; bacillus and bacterial levels: normal to low; dissolved minerals: high."

Mac, trying not to be impressed, "Uh-huh… agh!" He shifted his position a bit. "And what about the soils samples?"

Doc smirked before beginning, " Let's see, I uh …

Ten minutes of grilling by MacGyver later…

"… But the platbooks are hopelessly out of date. Let me show you…" He reached for the platbook and showed Mac a page he had been drawing on. "Nearly all of the land that adjoins this proposed lake has changed hands within the last two years," he said, pointing them out on the map with a final jab at the book.

Mac nodded, thinking, "Yeah. A cartel calling itself, uh, Resources Management Associates … You know? I wonder…. A few years back there was a group by that name in state of Washington. They tried to divert part of the Puyallup River to build a posh resort. Problem was, they were using tribal lands and …" He and the Doc exchanged glances, "You don't suppose…?"

Doc raised his eyebrows, thinking. "Yeah! I wouldn't be at all surprised! The entire village of Sterling is about to be condemned. Those people have worked hard to make their town viable. Most of the owners are Native Americans and…"

"Are there any other possible beneficiaries for this project, maybe farther downstream?"

Doc shook his head, "Nope. It disappears into the ground after another fifteen miles."

"Did you put that into the report?"

"Yeah. I did. And one more thing…" as he bought over the platbook again, "See this large area that I haven't colored in? Here, at the edge of the so-called lake?" and pointed to an area on the map.

Mac took the book and looked closely at where Doc was pointing, "'M.M. Fox' … that you?"

Doc rocked back on his heels, smirking, with a sparkle in his eyes, "That's me! Martin Ma – er, M. Fox!"

Mac gave the Doc a curious glance, "Then one way or another, they'll be here."

"And all of that was in the report. I signed my name and then yours at the bottom of it."

Mac threw his head back on the pillows, "UGH! (Ow!) You … forged… my name? … on government documents?! I hope Pete catches it before they're forwarded to …"

"Look, I'm sorry if I've messed things up for you, but if the report was late, the cartel would have been free to go ahead."

Mac grudgingly rubbed his arm, 'Well, you're right on that count, but that does not make forging my signature right! The end does NOT justify the means!" and he sighed, trying to find a more comfortable position.

The Doc poured another dose of the tea and brought it to MacGyver, "You look like you're ready for this."

"Yeah, Say? What's in this stuff anyway?" he asked accepting the cup.

The Doc hesitated before answering, "Oh, nothing much, just some stuff."

MacGyver drained the cup, tasting as he drank, "Well one of these times you're… going to tell me …uh, what's in …" and he drifted off to sleep.

"Sure thing, Little Brother," as he took the cup from MacGyver's hand.

0000000000000000000000000000

Well, good news is that Mac is on the mend! R & R, please…


	7. Chapter 7

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

**AN: **Just to let you know, this story is a re-write of a TV script that I wrote about 30 years ago. My agent submitted it along with two others to Paramount Studios, but we were told that the MacGyver series had been discontinued. So I have finally been encouraged to re-format the stories and submit them here. Hope you enjoy them!

Chapter 7

Pete Thornton, Chief of Field Operations for the Phoenix Foundation - and, incidentally, MacGyver's boss – was sitting at his desk studying the display on his special magnifier screen that enlarges images found on standard paper. "Nancy? Nancy! Do you know anything about this?"

His secretary entered the room, a bit agitated with her boss, notepad and pen in hand, "Yes, Mr. Thornton?"

Pete waved some papers in the air in her direction, "What do you know about these? Did you see this?"

Nancy was puzzled, unable to see what he was waving around and uncertain of why he was getting upset, this time. " Sir?"

"MacGyver's report! Have you seen this?"

Nancy tried to remain calm, "Yes, Sir, I believe it came this morning and I sent it directly to the lab ... per your instructions, and …"

"You don't need to tell me what I told you to do! What I'm asking is, did you notice anything unusual about it?"

Nancy was getting a bit indignant over this badgering from her usually understanding boss. It seemed that since his vision had been deteriorating from glaucoma, he had been becoming more and more irritable. "No, Sir, is something wrong? I didn't even open it. What's the trouble?"

"The trouble? The TROUBLE? The trouble is that MacGyver didn't DO these reports. They were done by someone called Dr. Fox … and Mac's signature was forged at the bottom! Has he called in yet?"

Now Nancy was also concerned, "No, he…"

Pete asked the air, "Where is he? I need to find out what's going on out there!"

Meanwhile, things have been improving for our hero. He was now able to sit up in bed, propped up with pillows and a chair cushion from somewhere. His right arm was still in a sling and strapped to his body, but he was more alert and watching the Doc as he busied himself in the kitchen area of the cabin: stoking the fire, cooking, washing dishes.

Mac was examining what looked like a sextant, most likely one of Doc's many instruments scattered around the room. "Tell me, why do you live like this?"

Without turning around, he replied, "Hmm? Like what? I have everything I need. The alcohol generator powers some things, solar cells power my security system …."

"I mean by yourself… out here, away from everybody? You have so much to offer, yet you hide out here. ." He paused before tentatively asking, "You're not in some kind of trouble, are you? Like with the law?"

Doc sadly shook his head, "The law?" He took a deep breath before continuing, "No, I just like it here. I've seen enough out there, stuff that I just don't want to be a part of."

Mac, still toying with the sextant, asked, "Didja ever consider trying to change, er, whatever it was you didn't want to be a part of?"

Doc wiped his hands on a towel as he turned to face his patient, "Yeah… I tried."

"And?"

Doc leaned against the counter "And …" He shrugs, "Nothing."

Mac was exasperated, "Nothing? Excuse me? But this wouldn't have anything to do with those lash scars across your back? Or the brand burned into your arm? And your other arm looks like…"

"THAT was an accident!" Interrupted Doc, "Happened a long time ago…" and he got a far-away look on his face.

Mac suddenly had a memory flash of himself as a five-year-old. _He was in a shed with that same older boy and they were holding a metal trap when it sprang, clamping itself around the arm of the older boy. They both screamed – him in surprise and horror, the older boy in surprise and pain. Mac was crying, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"_

Doc noticed his far-away look and waited for a reaction, but there was none. "So… you saw?"

"Who did that to you?" Mac asked quietly.

Doc was surprised to see the towel still in his hand. "I did, OK?" and threw the towel at the counter before turning around again. "I did it by putting my nose in where it didn't belong!"

Mac looked up at him with a pained expression, "You don't really believe that?"

Doc shrugged , "Nah! They're all gone now, so it doesn't really matter anymore."

Mac shifted his position in the chair a little in order to lean forward. "Of course it matters … just look what it's doing to you! You're still …. Ugh! Look, where I work we like to think we make a difference… Why don't you come back with me? Take a look around, see what you think? We could use someone with your instincts and expertise."

Doc just scowled at the floor, pushing a bit of something with his toe.

"Or do you have family here?"

Doc sighs and looks up, "No. No family. My father died before I was born, my mother when I was eighteen. She had remarried, and there was a boy," he again studies the floor, "but when she and Dad died, he went to live with his people and I never saw him again."

"'His people'?"

"My mother was white. She married a white man. The boy was white."

"Oh… Whatever became of him?"

Doc took a deep breath before giving a brief answer, "Ohh, lost in time, I guess. You hungry? I've made some soup."

OOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo

Thanks for reading! R & R if you'd like.


	8. Chapter 8

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 8:

Mac was getting a little uncomfortable in the chair, still toying with Doc's sextant, "Hungry? Nah. Not really… I guess I'm curious about your family because it's, well, kinda like my own."

Doc turned back to the stove, tending the soup, "Oh yeah?"

Mac watched him for a few minutes before he sighed, "Yeah. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was nine and I went to live with my grandparents, right here in Minnesota as a matter of fact."

Doc brought over a bowl of soup and set it on the plank that spanned the arms of the chair. "Careful now, that's hot…. You don't say?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Pete was getting more and more anxious about MacGyver. Flustered, he tried looking out the window, then held his hand up to the light to see how much of its silhouette he could make out, then moved toward his desk. "Bah! I mean it! I've had it! MacGyver hasn't called in for over a week! The lab has extracted all that it can from those forged reports, and I'm still stuck HERE! … Nancy? Have Doug bring my car around. And call Jim and tell him to gas up the plane and file a flight plan for whatever airfield is closest to where MacGyver is supposed to be working. … And tell Jim to pack for Minnesota! … You got all that?

"Yes, sir, I think so … er, what about your own bags? Do you want someone to ..?"

Pete harrumphs, "I've had my bags packed for… four … days now, … ever since…"

Nancy could see that Pete was groping around the edges of his desk, searching for something, but she also knew that, as independent as Pete was, it wouldn't do any good for his mood to offer to help him. So she waited.

"Where'd you leave my cane? I always keep it right here at the end of my desk. If you think you can keep me here by hiding my cane… Huh? What?"

Nancy patiently repeated, "It's over at the end of your credenza, near the window."

Pete blushed a little, remembering that he'd left it over there. "Oh! Oh, yeah. Thanks… Look, I'm sorry. I'm just so…"

Nancy gave him an understanding smile, "You just be sure to let us know as soon as you find him!"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The thin man sat behind a large desk in a very large private office. Robert was standing facing him, the two of them seeming to be at odds. The thin man stood up to walk around his desk, "That's nonsense! Superstitious nonsense! Such ignorant, back-woods… people! You'll just have to find someone who WILL go up there. Bring someone in from the outside if you have to!" And he sat on the front of his desk, frowning fiercely at Robert.

Robert shrugged. "And now they've got the sheriff's curiosity aroused and he's been asking a lot of questions, about that MacGyver fellow, and …"

The thin man's expression changed to a smug, self-satisfied smirk, "That's no problem." And he pressed a button on his intercom, "Janice? Could you get the D. A.'s office for me? Thank you." He turns to the other man, "Let's see if we can't get him out of our hair, eh?"

Roberts sat in one of the stuffed leather chairs, after helping himself to a cigar from the humidor on the credenza.

The intercom came alive with a man's voice, ::"Hello? Donald? How are things?"::

The thin man (Donald) replied affably, "Jim! Fine here. How about with you?" He picked up his phone and switched off the speaker . "That's great! Say, I just saw Sheriff McKay last night and the talk got around to the Miller case …. Right. He mentioned that he hasn't given his deposition yet? … Yes, they are here too. In fact, he said it was so slow, he'd welcome a chance to go to Rochester to give his, so long as the request looks sort of urgent. Haha! I guess Betty wants to do some shopping! You remember his wife? Enjoys spending money!... Yes, that's what he said. … That's OK! Glad to be of help. Say, isn't this Melissa's last year at State? … And how are things between her and that Kennedy boy?... Next June? Really? Well, congratulations on both counts! … OK. And to you too. Bye now." After hanging up the phone he turned to Roberts and the friendly smile disappeared from his face, "The sheriff is taken care of. Anything else?"

Roberts got up to leave, "No, I guess that's it. Thanks for the cigar," he said, waving it at him.

O0o0o0o0oo0o0o

In the remote areas where MacGyver typically did his fieldwork, there were very few amenities, such as airports and taxicabs – as Pete and Jim were about to discover. They had found themselves at a small single runway airstrip. After unloading their things from the twin-engine plane, a mechanic came over to talk with them. After a brief discussion, he pointed to the bar-cum-terminal-cum-clubhouse. Pete and Jim looked at each other, shrugged and picked up their gear and made their way to the bar.

Once inside, Pete approached the bar. The bartender broke himself away from a small group of men to investigate these out-of-towners. " Hello, Gentlemen! Can I help you?"

Pete set down his suitcase, "Yes, I hope so! Can you tell me, is there some place around here where a person could rent a car?"

The bartender all but rolled his eyes, "A Car?" and turned to the men he'd just left when he heard some snickering coming from them, "Hey! Pipe down!" But the chuckling continued.

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy. We only need it for a few days, just to get around in this area. No long-distance driving."

O0o0o0o0o0o

The only thing the bartender could offer was his brother-in-law's subcompact car that he'd left at the airfield when he took off for a two-week trip to Chicago. As they drove down the narrow highway, smoke began coming out of the engine.

Jim looked pretty peeved as he drove this "junker" as he called it.

Pete looked at him incredulously, "Quit complaining! It beats walking! And it's a good thing the windows don't roll up, what with all the fumes in here!"

Jim snorts, "But thirty bucks? For this heap?"

"For a week, Jim. That's not such a bad deal."

"Ugh! If it runs that long! Say, what was the name of that motel, "Daze-End"?

"Yeah! We here already?" The tires squealed and Pete braced himself as Jim abruptly turned into the dirt parking area. They both got out of the car, taking deep breaths of air and brushing off their clothes.

"Well! We made it!" Pete offered optimistically.

The motel was a small, ramshackle, single-story affair, much in need of another coat of the ubiquitous white paint seen in these parts, set into an opening in the ever-present pine forest. It looked like it had been there for at least fifty years and extended for no more than three exterior entrances in addition to that for the office and the manager's quarters.

Jim gave Pete a rueful look before going inside. Watching from outside you could see the manager nod or shake his head in response to their questions before they emerged and the manager led them to one of the rooms and opened it for them. "Like I said, he ain't been here in over a week now – but he's all paid up for another week. Me an' the wife thought maybe he was one o' them fugitives, so we been watching the TV real close! But you say he ain't? Oh well …" They got to one of the motel's doors and the manager opened it with his key. "Here y'are. It's all yours! And here's the key to your room, right next door!" and he gives Pete another door key.

"Thank you," said Pete, slipping him a tip.

Once inside, they began to look around. The room was no more than a moderate sized bedroom with a small bath off to one side. It was neat, but apparently lived in. Pete went to the bathroom and discovered Mac's shaving gear and got a very worried look on his face as he came out to show Jim, "Something is very wrong here," he said, gesturing with Mac's razor. "He didn't leave this behind on purpose. He's in trouble! I just know it!"

Jim shrugged his shoulders, "When isn't he? Don't worry, Mr. Thornton, you know he can take care of himself."

Pete shook his head and sighed, "Yeah, Maybe you're right… but I have this awful feeling that … Would you pack up his things? I have some calls to make. Just leave it all on the bed, in case he comes back."

Oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

And it's Pete to the rescue! Well, maybe. R & R please!


	9. Chapter 9

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 9:

Pete and Jim spent most of the next day walking through the town of Sterling, asking questions, mainly trying to find somebody – anybody – to take them up to the doctor's place. But the only responses they got were "too busy" or "Yeah. I saw him maybe a week ago" or "A guide? Up there? No way!" or "Sorcerer's Mountain? You must be crazy."

As they went from house to bar to church, a young man, wearing boots worked in circular designs with colored threads, has been following them, eavesdropping.

Toward evening, Pete and Jim sat on a bench and tiredly looked at each other. "I don't understand it." Pete said in obvious exasperation. "Is everybody here that superstitious? Sorcerer, my sore foot!" Jim could do nothing but shrug. "What do you think, Jim? Could we do it alone? I mean the two of us? I realize it's not your job….."

Jim turned to Pete sharply, saying, "Don't forget that I've had wilderness survival training with the Air Force and with the Foundation. We should be able to manage."

They had no idea that the young man with the fancy boots had come to stand behind them until he spoke."Wait! You can't go out there alone! A blind man has no business in the woods."

Pete and Jim jumped to their feet and spun around ready for a fight when they heard his voice. The young man backed up out of their reach as Pete asked him, "Who are you? And what business is it of yours?" Pete went around the bench to face the young man. "And anyway, I'll have you know that my very best friend is out there someplace, maybe hurt, maybe seriously, …and … and..." (Pete was near tears) "I cannot just sit by and wait while nothing is being done!"

The young man took a step closer, almost nose-to-nose with Pete, taunting him. "And what is an old blind man going to do?"

In a flash, Pete grabbed the younger man's wrist and twisted it around behind his back. "'Old Blind Man', eh?"

The young man winced, trying to get out of Pete's grasp "OW! Let go!"

"I may be nearly blind, but I am far from useless! Now get out of my way!" and he shoved the man off to the side.

"Wait!", called the young man, getting up. "How do I know you're really who you say you are? His friend?"

"Because I AM! And what difference does it … Wait just a MINUTE! You know where he is, don't you?" Pete grabbed hold of the young man's collar and pulled him closer. "If anything happens to him because you won't take me to him, I am going to hold you personally responsible!"

The young man didn't struggle, but rather studied Pete for a few minutes before speaking, "OK. But not now. After dark. There's a road that heads north from the main highway east of town. Take it. I'll be there."

Oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Is it getting interesting enough yet? R & R, please!


	10. Chapter 10

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 10:

Today our patient was actually dressed in a loose-fitting shirt, pants and socks and sitting in one of the Morris chairs. He no longer had the bandage on his head, just a few little scraps of tape holding the skin together. A plank was set across the chair from arm to arm with a bowl of what looked like oatmeal on it, which Mac seemed to be enjoying.

While he was eating, he studied the array of books, instruments, pharmaceuticals and running experiments displayed. "What do you do with all this stuff?"

Doc was busy near the stove preparing a bowl of the same breakfast for himself: hot oatmeal cooked with black walnuts, dried blueberries, granola pears and honey. "Oh… nothing, everything. Care to be a little more specific?"

"Well, like that beaker with something bubbling in it?"

"Ahh!" Doc was delighted to have a chance to tell yet another story… "Now, that is a very ancient tradition, begun by none other than Ghengis Khan … It seems he told his people that to avoid sickness they needed to boil all their drinking water. But they complained that its taste was too bland and so…"

"Tea?!" Mac interrupted.

Doc took the beaker off the burner and poured out two cups of the liquid. "yeah. You look disappointed." He smirked, "What did you think it was?"

"Oh, I don't know … a cure for cancer, a new form of non-polluting fuel … you know, something normal."

Doc chuckled, "Well it isn't exactly tea,"

"Why am I not surprised?" and it was Mac's turn to smirk.

It's actually a coffee substitute made with the ground up roasted roots of dandelions. I made it for our breakfast," he said as he brought one of the cups to MacGyver. "Care to try some? It's not bad."

Mac took the cup as Doc turned to retrieve the other cup and his oatmeal and take a seat at the table. "Dandelions… Sure, why not? … And what about that decanting set-up you have going over there? I suppose that's some kind of wine?"

Doc coughed lightly before answering, "Ahh, well" he cleared his throat, "Uh, that's Rhus toxicodendron extracting."

Mac looked puzzled for a moment as he thought, then looked up, "Rhus tox, isn't that poison ivy?"

"You're good!" then under his breath, "too good. That's right. Poison ivy is an important healing herb. In the proper dosage and form, it promotes healing and eases the pain of damaged muscles and tendons by nourishing them directly." He had a twinkle in his eye as he saw Mac's expression slowly change.

Mac wasn't sure what it was about the Doc's new attitude, but suspected that he was up to something, yet he continued his perusal when his eye caught a glimpse of his medicine cup nearby. Doc was trying hard not to grin at Mac and had turned his head enough that he could just see Mac out of the corner of his eye. Now Mac was really getting suspicious. He looked back at the decanter and how close it was to his medicine cup and a few other jars and bottles, then looked back at Doc with an expression of suspicions-he-didn't-want-confirmed.

Doc finally turned to him with a slight grin, "It's one of the ingredients in the potion I've been giving you."

"POISON IVY?! You've been giving me poison ivy?"

"Now you see why I haven't told you what was in it – not until you'd had some, anyway."

Mac's expression is still incredulous, "But… poison ivy? I don't think I want to know what else is in it."

Doc was back to teaching mode, "Oh, nothing much, some other herbs and extracts, with lemon grass and rose hips for flavor and vitamins, a little honey. Oh, and something to help you sleep, of course."

"Oh, of course. Which would be…?"

"Just some St. Johnswort flowers. It grows wild up here, as do most of the herbs I use," he said, pouring out a dose of the mixture from a nearby jar and bringing it to Mac.

MacGyver eyed Doc with suspicion as he took the cup from him, "Aw, come on now. You don't… really expect me to drink this, do you?"

Doc chuckled as he went back to clean up the breakfast dishes, "That isn't going to hurt you any more than what you've already taken."

Mac was about to drink but then stopped, a puzzled expression on his face, "Say what?"

Doc laughed, then tried to get serious again, "Er, let me rephrase that: You have benefitted so much from what you've taken so far, there's no reason to expect any different results from future doses."

"Uh-huh." Mac was obviously not entirely convinced, but hesitantly sipped at the potion when a bell sounded and Doc stiffened.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hehehe! R & R, please!


	11. Chapter 11

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 11:

Mac looked from the bell to Doc, "That some kind of alarm?

The bell rang three more times in quick succession and Doc relaxed. "Just some friends coming up. Here, let me take that," and he took Mac's cup and then lowered the back of the chair to form a bed and brought over a footstool. "But _who_ever or _what_ever it is will keep until you wake up. Now don't be fighting the drug, just let it work."

Mac tried to protest but was getting too groggy, "But… who?" Doc produced a light blanket as a cover for his patient and MacGyver slipped into a dream where the same older boy was telling him not to fight the potion he'd been given for chicken pox.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

On the side of a hill, the pathway passed some very large boulders, slightly leaning against a tree. The tree had a series of pulleys attached to the uphill side of it with a rope attached to them. Doc had come down the path and, grasping the rope in one hand, concealed himself behind the boulder.

As Billy, Pete and Jim rounded the boulder, Doc stood up and blocked their path, speaking louder than the distance would warrant in an effort to startle them, "Greetings!"

Predictably, Pete and Jim come to an abrupt halt, stumbling into each other, but Billy seems to have expected this.

"Greetings, Doc! These are some friends of Mr. MacGyver"

"Oh, are they now? And what proof do they have of this?"

Pete, recovering from his scare replied, albeit a bit hesitantly, "Well, none, really, but … did I hear him call you 'Doc'? Are you Dr. Martin Fox?"

Doc replied, a little embarrassed at being unexpectedly put on the spot, "I am."

Pete let out a sigh of relief, "Well then! I'm the one you sent those reports to … the ones that you forged MacGyver's signature to? By the way, I had the lab compare the writing on the reports to that on the anonymous request for help we received and it seems, then, that you're the one who sent for us in the first place!"

Doc grinned sheepishly, both embarrassed at his oversight and impressed at Pete's efficiency. "Ahh, you people are thorough! So you're Pete? You can call me 'Doc'. I see you've already met Billy. The cabin's up this way," and he turned around and started up the path.

Pete, managing to keep up, asked him, "MacGyver? How is he? We heard he was hurt…"

"Just follow me and see for yourself."

Pete and Jim exchanged glances and then shrugged before following Doc and Billy.

It wasn't long before they reached the cabin where Doc told them to wait on the large front porch. Billy went inside and came back out carrying some extra chairs. Doc soon emerged with some dandelion tea. "He's been shot, with a bladed hunting arrow, and I've been taking care of him here."

Pete nearly dropped his tea, "He's WHAT?"

After about an hour of conversation, the four of them were laughing quietly when Doc became attentive to something in the cabin, then abruptly got up and went inside, leaving Pete and Jim to wonder why.

Once inside, Doc prepared a basin of warm water just as Mac began to mumble in his sleep. He woke with a start and grabbed his arm, squeezing his eyes tightly

Doc looked his way, concerned, "Another one?" as he brought over the basin and began helping Mac to wash up.

"Ugh… yeah…. What's all this?"

"You have some company, so I thought maybe you'd like to clean up first?"

Mac looked questioningly at Doc, "Company? But who would…? The only person who knows where I am is Pete, but he's …"

Doc smiled and nodded his head.

"Pete? But how did he get up here …?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0

A few minutes later MacGyver, wearing a clean shirt and a fresh shave, his right arm still strapped across his body, opened the front door to see Pete and Jim relaxing on the porch. "Pete?"

Pete turned and got up at the sound, "Mac-GYVER! MacGyver! How are you?"

O0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o

An hour later the men were still sitting around on the porch, Pete and Mac in the two Morris chairs and the others were on benches or the front steps. Billy was saying, " but we found out that the sheriff is out of town. Something about Rochester and depositions?"

Doc looked into his now empty cup, "Yeah, I can just about imagine how that happened. Oh, he's a nice enough guy, but it looks like we're on our own here." A twinkle in his eye belied his regret. Mac noticed and gave him a suspicious look, frowning."

"But there must be something we can do?" asked Pete, looking from one to another.

Mac, not taking his eyes off of Doc, told them, "Don't ask me how, but I have a feeling that Doc here is way ahead of us - and them. Pete? Did he tell you that he knew you were coming? And that there were three of you? And ask him about his solar-powered security system."

Jim jumped up from his place on the top step, "So that explains it!"

Pete looked from Jim to Doc in confusion, "Explains what?"

Jim turned to Pete, "Remember when the Doc here met us on the trail? Well, he wasn't ON the path, so much as waiting for us, behind that rock! And he had hold of a rope that would have brought down a nest full of hornets if he wanted to! And Mr. Thornton played it so cool!"

Pete laughed nervously, "Well, maybe sometimes it helps to be a little blind! Huh!, But tell me about this arrow, Doc. You said that you knew it wasn't someone from the Indian community?"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Maybe we're getting somewhere? R & R please.


	12. Chapter 12

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 12:

"Yeah, that was odd," Doc said. "See, Charlie Four-Bears makes all of the arrows for those of us who shoot a bow and a few years ago he sent away for one of those fancy fletching gigs. But they sent him the wrong kind of helix clamp. He said the arrows flew fine so he never bothered to exchange it. So all of our arrows have left-helix fletching. The arrow I took out of our friend here had a right-helix!"

Mac looked at Doc, thinking, "What he means, Pete, is that…"

Pete sat up straighter in his chair in order to show what he's talking about with his hands, "Oh I know what he's talking about. It's the way the feathers twist at the end of the arrow shaft. I used to shoot tournament archery, did my own repairs too!"

Mac looked at him, surprised, "You?"

"Yes. Me! There are still a few things about me that you don't know! " And he yawns, "Oh! Excuse me!"

Doc grinned at Pete, amused that he was still so animated "Great explanation, Pete! Oh, say, Billy? Did you bring them around the lake on the way up here?"

"Yes, Sir, just like you said to."

Pete and Jim exchanged glances, both wondering what this was about.

"I guess I owe you both an apology, " said Doc, although he doesn't seem, very apologetic. "I'm afraid you've been walking most of the night to cover about four miles. You must be exhausted. Billy? Could you get them settled in the back room? Go on ahead with Billy. He'll show you where everything is. You can rest there for awhile."

Pete and Jim followed Billy to a second room used mostly for storage and helped Billy set up some metal cots with mattresses and bedding and unpack into a dresser against one wall. As they worked, Pete approached Billy, "Say, Billy? Can you answer a question for me?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Thornton. The outhouse is just through those doors and…"

Pete started chuckling, "Thank you, Hah!... But that wasn't my question. What I wanted to ask was, why does the Doc call MacGyver 'Little Brother'?"

"Oh, he calls everyone that age that. He and his brother got split up when they were kids. I guess it's just his way of keeping up the hope of finding him again some day. Um, I'll bring in some water and get you a wash stand set up over against the wall."

"Thank you… and where did you say the outhouse was?"

"Maybe I'd better take you, the first time anyway."

"Thanks! I'd appreciate that." And Pete and Billy left the cabin.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Doc started bringing the chairs back into the cabin as Mac retrieved all the tea mugs and put them in the basin to be washed.

Doc grinned at Mac, "You were right about Pete. I like him!'

Mac paused, thinking of all that he and Pete had been through together, "Yeah. He's the best. I wouldn't feel as safe with anyone else in my corner."

Doc brought in the last chair and sat down with a huff, "Whew! Glad that's done." He looked over at MacGyver, thinking, "Say, you've been having some pretty wild dreams lately. Sometimes it helps to talk about them?"

Mac scowled at the floor, not really willing to discuss his problems with a stranger, and yet, somehow this doctor didn't seem like that much of a stranger. "Yeah, well, there isn't much to talk about, I can't remember any of them," he lied.

But Doc wasn't so easily put off. "What DO you remember?"

Mac shrugged, "Just … bits and pieces."

"Like?" encouraged Doc.

Mac was still scowling at the floor, but took another breath, "I've never told anyone about them, not even Harry."

Doc raised an eyebrow with interest, "Harry?"

"Huh? Oh, my grandpa."

Doc waited, then got up to poke the fire in the stove.

"Well, that scar on your arm… It … there was a dream where an older boy gets his arm caught in a trap. His screams, and a terrible feeling that it was my fault…"

Doc looked away and winced at his pain. "Anything else?"

Mac looked up from the floor, his eyes filled with questions and confusion, "Yeah. Whenever you call me that 'Little Brother', it kinda … bothers me. Could you call me something else? Like MacGyver?"

Doc nodded as if considering it.

"And when you told me not to fight that drug, I dreamt about that older boy telling me not to fight some medicine I'd been given for measles, or mumps…" Mac gestured helplessly, unable to remember clearly.

"Chicken-pox?" offered Doc.

Mac looked up at him sharply, suspicious, "Yeah… but how did you know? It's odd, but I somehow I associate you with… but that's not possible. I don't even know you, do I? Should I? Know you? Do you know me?" He ran his fingers through his hair, "I don't even know if these are really dreams or just something out of my imagination, or…? I Just don't know!"

Quietly and understandingly Doc asked, "Have you ever tried thinking of them as memories?"

Mac didn't answer but his scowl deepened.

Doc continued, "What do you remember of your parents?"

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Uh-oh. Mac's not going to like this. R n& R, if you please!


	13. Chapter 13

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 13:

Mac looked up, surprised, "My parents!?" He got up and crossed the room to get some more tea. Doc started to get up to help but Mac waved him off. "What do they have to do with this?"

"Well, if you were nine when they died, you must have some fine memories of them?" Doc offered, trying to lighten the discussion a little.

Mac remained facing the counter, "I remember the funeral."

"And before that?"

Mac still hasn't turned around, "Look, all I remember is THEM leaving me … and YOU lea… ving…" He turned around to stare at Doc, puzzled. "I mean… No!.. You?" he took a step backwards, bumping into the counter, "No! It's not possible? He was just someone in my dreams, wasn't he? Why am I asking you? Or maybe this" and he waved his arm to include the whole cabin, "is all a dream? Maybe it's that bump on my head?"

He put his hand to his head, "Or is there something in that stuff you've been giving me?"

Doc shrugged a bit before continuing, thinking, "You suffered a terrible shock, losing both your parents to that drunk driver…."

"How did you know about that…?"

Doc hadn't stopped talking, "… and of course a certain amount of memory loss would be expected and perfectly normal."

Mac felt like he was drowning in words, in things he didn't want to think about but kept coming into his mind unbidden. "Memory loss? You think that all these dreams and… déjà-vu, that they're all memories? That they really happened? How come…? You seem to know an awful lot about me. Who are you?" He stopped to try to pull himself together, "Look, if this is true – IF it's true – why not just tell me? Why all the guessing games? Are you working for MURDOC or something? WHO ARE YOU?"

Doc answered, his voice quiet, his words measured, "You had to bring these things up out of your memory and deal with them." He paused to look sympathetically at Mac, hoping for understanding, "You know who I am, don't you?"

Mac looked at him and answered tentatively, almost in a whisper, "Marty?... You're Marty? You're – I mean, Marty's REAL?" Mac studies this stranger who isn't really all that strange, studying his hair, his eyes, "You're real?" Though he was still suspicious, he was also fighting back a flood of emotions lying just beneath the surface of his composure.

Doc's expression softened, "That's right… Little Brother."

Mac again got that odd feeling and rubbed the back of his neck against his shirt collar as Doc continued, "…You can touch me. I'm not a figment of your imagination. It's just me, Marty – your brother."

Mac's breath came out all at once, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He sat down – hard – on a chair, subconsciously grabbing his arm at the pain. Without taking a breath he whispered, "WHAT?!" then took a breath and coughed. "Look, Ahh, I don't know who you think you are, but I'm not your brother. I don't HAVE a brother. I'm sorry, I'd like to help you, but, but … Marty?" and he continued his visual examination of this strange, yet compelling doctor.

A sudden realization alarmed Doc, "Oh …no, they… NO! DAMMIT! They never told you? THEY NEVER EVEN TOLD YOU?!"

Now Mac was even more confused, "Told me? Who? Told me what?"

"Ugh! Ahh… stay with me, Buddy, ah ... remember when you said our families' stories were so similar? You said…"

"I said I went to live with my grandfather when I was nine and…"

"And Buddy was nine when our parents died, " said Doc, finishing his sentence. "You were six when I went to live with my grandfather."

"But that doesn't make you my brother? Marty was a friend? Or a cousin? Or something?"

Doc was smirking and had retrieved a small book from one of the bookshelves and handed it to Mac, "Here."

Mac turned it over in his free hand and read the cover, "'McGyver Family Tree'… but…?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o


	14. Chapter 14

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 14:

**(AN**: This one's a little long. Had a lot that needed to get said….)

Mac turned the book over in his free hand and read the cover, "'McGyver Family Tree'… but this is mine. How did you…?"

Doc patiently and gently said, "Open it and read it."

Mac looked uncertainly at Doc, then got up and took the book to the table so he could open it flat with one hand, "'To Martin MacGyver.'" Puzzled, he looked up at Doc.

Doc nodded to him to continue, "That's me… Martin MacGyver Fox. Go on…."

Mac's mouth formed a "W" but no sound came out, then looked back at the book and continued reading, "'To Martin MacGyver, Dear Marty, my son…' But I don't understand? This is MY mother's writing. Why would she…?"

Doc rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Will you just read it and ask questions later?"

Mac was curious, but he was also annoyed at someone telling him to do something he wasn't sure he wanted to, " (reading) 'Dear Mar,' uh…, 'I know that you have often felt that you were not a part of this family, but you ARE! You are my first-born son and always will be. And, so you will never forget – and so you will have something to show future generations - I am sending this to you. I have written in the parts that the family saw fit to leave out. Read it with pride, as I have always been proud of you. Love, Mom (Ellen M. MacGyver)'" Mac looked over at Doc, stunned, "You're really my brother? (Unvoiced: Whooh!) I have a brother! Marty was – IS – my brother!"

Doc was so thrilled that Mac finally understood and that he was actually here with him. He just stood there beaming at Mac, "That's right, Little Brother… how does it feel?"

Mac wasn't sure what he felt or what to say, "I … uh, don't know?" But when he looked back at the book, he couldn't help but to feel an overwhelming pain and brought his hand to his face and walked away, crying quietly, "Ugh…"

Doc was immediately concerned, "Buddy?"

Between gasps, Mac managed to say, "The date… Mom… three days before…"

Doc reached out for Mac, not bothering to hide his own tears, and, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I know. Three days before they died… as if she knew…"

Mac turned around and they embraced, weeping for their parents and for the comfort of finally finding someone to share their grief. As they pulled apart, Mac's gaze dropped to Doc's arm and he stiffened, "I did that. It was my fault. I was careless and you had to pay for it. Is that why you left? Because of me? I'm so sorry."

Doc has been protesting, trying to interrupt Mac all along… "You?... No, NO! It was…No! I, No way! That had nothing… are you listening to me?" He finally took Mac by his left shoulder and shook him gently until he got his attention… "LISTEN TO ME!" he shouted at Mac, "You've got it all wrong! That trap business was my fault! I'm the one who taught you the wrong way to set it! And I was warned to stay out of Mr. Thomassen's shed! And that had nothing to do with my leaving… I left because I HAD to! I'm just glad that it was my arm and not yours that got caught; you would have lost your arm. Are you listening to me?"

Mac felt drained, exhausted, confused, "Mr. Thomassen? But your arm… This is all so…"

"Confusing?" Doc offered. "Of course it is. It looks like you have been blaming yourself for thirty-five years for something you didn't even do. That's a long time. You can't expect to sort it all out right away. Just take your time." After a few minutes, he nodded toward the front door, "Come help me carry in some wood."

Mac looked up, then at the dwindling woodpile and went out the door with Doc. The air was just a bit chilly, but it felt good, and fresh to Mac who had been cooped up for so long. He took a deep breath before heading around to the back , holding out his good arm to allow Doc to load him down with some wood billets and splits and bringing them into the house. Through all of this, Mac had been thinking things over. Leaning against the table Mac now spoke up, "Nah! This doesn't make sense. Why was I never told anything about…?"

Doc began arranging and stacking the wood. "Huh! You read what Mother wrote. It was true. It – I – was a scandal, and they were only too happy when my grandfather requested custody when I was fifteen. I don't know, maybe they felt they were protecting you? Maybe Mom and Dad were going to tell you later, but never got the chance? Maybe your grandfather thought you knew?" Mac seemed to be remembering things, "But what about you? As I recall, you never even came to their funeral."

"Not true. I came! But you had your family around you, shielding you, "

"YOU were my family!" He put his hand to his head, puzzled. "You were…"

Doc shook his head sadly, "Our paths had separated, so I stayed out of the way. That was the… Hardest thing I ever had to do, to just leave you there,…ah… " Mac could see that he was fighting tears. "They were my parents too, you know. I never knew any other father…" He had to stop and clear his throat. "After that, I lost track of you. Grandfather decided to 'go native' and we had almost no contact with the outside world."

Slowly and hesitantly Mac asked, "So how long have you known? Is that why you brought me up here?"

Doc was insulted that Mac would think him to be so shallow. "Of course not! I brought you here because you'd have bled to death if I hadn't. I'd have done the same – and have – for anyone else!"

"Sorry. I didn't mean …"

'It wasn't until you started calling for me in your sleep…" He got a far-away look on his face. "You know? I thought I was losing my mind. I've had your words ringing in my head ever since you said them almost forty years ago. And then, to hear some stranger say them … the same way… right here, someone who's life had been entrusted to my care … I was afraid to touch you!"

Mac nodded his head in agreement, "Kinda like, your mind is echoing in your ears and you can't tell whether it's real or imagined."

"Exactly! So I double-checked." Mac's eyebrows went up in surprise as Doc retrieved the yearbook from under his mattress, "I found this at the dump about a year ago…"

"At the dump? Why would anyone throw away a perfectly good book like that?"

Doc smiled, "That's what I thought. Anyway, I looked up your picture. That's when I knew for sure that I'd found my little brother."

Mac was afraid to ask, "Why didn't you say something then?"

"Huh! Would you have believed me?"

Mac gave him a crooked grin, "Probably not."

"See there? And you wouldn't have trusted me either. And my first priority was getting you well again."

"Hm, yeah. I owe you my life."

Doc shook his head with his own half smile, "Having you here is more than enough payment. See, all these years I thought that you felt the same way as the rest of the family, about me, that is. I was afraid to tell you who I was, afraid you hated or were ashamed of me."

"Of you?!' Mac slowly shook his head, thinking, "All these years I've had a hollow feeling inside, like something was missing. I thought it was because of Mom and Dad, but it's not there anymore. YOU are what was missing. You were my best friend, I could never be ashamed of you. I'm honored to have you as my brother."

Hesitantly at first, they reached out for each other's arms, then clasped them before embracing each other, now as brothers, as equals.

Suddenly the bell rang and Doc stiffened, and waited. When there were no more rings, he grimly said, "They're here."

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Well! Looks like Mac has a permanent partner! R & R if you like it.


	15. Chapter 15

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 15:

Mac looked up at the concern in his new brother's face, "'They'? You expecting more company?"

Marty began gathering things together, packing them into a satchel and donning his boots and a jacket. "No."

Mac's puzzled expression turned to understanding and he began to struggle into his boots. It would seem that the cartel had found them and was on their way to get rid of the competition.

Marty paused and gave Mac a disapproving look, "What're you doing?"

Mac was still working on his boots; it had been awhile since he'd worn them and he was working with only one hand as the other was still strapped across his chest. "I'm going with you," he said matter-of-factly.

Marty wagged his head, "Ho, no you're not. You're staying right …"

"Look, you can't go out there alone! You don't know how many are out there; and they'll be armed! With guns! I can help; believe me! Besides, I'm just getting accustomed to having you around; I'm not about to, lose you now. Let's just say I'm protecting my own interests." Then, under his breath, "and my sanity!"

Marty hesitated, studying MacGyver.

"Come on, Doc … Marty… you're wasting time!"

Marty huffed before approaching Mac, "Well, first off, let me tie your shoes." He went down on one knee, "Talk about déjà-vu! You're just as stubborn as you ever were!"

"Me! You should talk …" He took a breath, then grinned, amused.

Marty looked up and saw the grin and grinned back. Soon they were both chuckling at the situation: two grown men, the older one tying the laces of the younger, arguing about who was the more stubborn – just like the children they were when they had last known each other.

Marty, still smiling as he was getting to his feet, "Come on! And grab that rope from behind the door," as he slips into a back-pack sprayer. "Now follow me and be careful… and NO HEROICS!"

Mac chuckled, "OK. Gotcha… say? What's in the tank?"

Marty smirked, "Something they are going to remember for a very long time! Made it myself."

Mac sniffed at the end of the nozzle, "Whew! Ugh!"

Marty chuckled and led the way along a nearly invisible trail until Marty signaled for Mac to take cover. Marty took one end of a thin rope that Mac had hold of and, covering it with debris where it crossed the pathway, took it to the other side of the pathway and concealed himself.

Soon a group of three men approached: Billy, followed by a man with a gun at Billy's back, with the third man following them. As soon as Billy crossed the rope, Mac and Marty pulled on it, tripping the gunman. Mac pulled the rope away as the second man tripped over the first and Mac retrieved the gun that had wound up almost at his feet and ducked down behind some bushes. Billy escaped in the confusion. While the men are searching for the gun, Mac stepped out from where he'd been concealed,

"Hi, Fellas! Looking for this?" and he dangled the gun high over his head, then threw it as far downhill as he could.

Before they could recover, Marty appeared to one side of the path, "Over here, boys!" He leveled the nozzle at them and the air was filled with the stench of SKUNK, the sticky liquid burning their eyes and nostrils. Mac had dived to the side to get out of the line of fire.

The thugs tried to run downhill, but blinded by their burning and watering eyes, they kept blundering into trees and tripping over rocks. MacGyver, holding his arm, and Marty were laughing at the spectacle when Billy returned and made a face at the smell.

"Whew! There's one more man. He had to make a pit stop for, Uh.."

Mac was enjoying the spectacle, but had felt something 'pop' when he fell to the ground and now his shoulder was hurting again. "You have to assume he has a gun." Marty looked at him with concern when he doubled over holding his arm. "We can't let him get to the cabin."

Marty looked from Mac to the retreating thugs, then turned to Billy, "Billy? Could you follow those two and let me know what they're up to?"

Mac quipped, "Ah-I wouldn't get too close!" at which they all chuckled.

Marty took MacGyver by his right shoulder, gently, and Mac recoiled in pain, "AGH! HEY! What was that for? Agh!"

Marty then stiffened, listening. "We're going back."

0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o

Two thugs down, one to go! R & R, if you like.


	16. Chapter 16

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 16:

Things weren't going very well at the cabin. Jim was lying on the floor, a gash in his head and blood on his head and on the floor. Pete was sitting on the floor near the back door, his hands tied behind him and his feet tied in front. A man carrying a handgun with an attached silencer was nervously pacing the floor.

Pete suddenly turned his head, listening, "What was that?"

The man became attentive, listening, "What? I don't hear nothin'."

Pete was still listening, or at least, pretending to, "Sh-h… there! Did you hear it that time? I think someone's coming."

"I don't hear nothin', so just shut up and keep still. My pals'll be here soon… right after they take care of that Breed an' your friend. An' just in case they don't, we got you for bait!"

Pete was undeterred and continued the act, "One person… and a dog? No, two dogs…"

The man was getting more nervous. Maybe this guy was right? Maybe he could hear something… but he didn't want to appear weaker than an old blind guy! He knew what he was doing! "I thought I told you to shut UP!" But just to be sure, he went to the window, trying to see any sign of his friends in the dark.

As he did that, Jim opened his eyes to locate Pete and fished something out of his pocket, then resumed his position. The man finally turned back from the window, accidentally knocking a willow fishing creel off the wall. He kicks it angrily and watches it sail across the room and hit the door frame above Pete, unaware of the Swiss Army Knife that was sliding across the floor at the same time.

Pete was startled and ducked at the sound of the creel hitting the wall above his head, but then moved his leg a bit to cover up the knife. Continuing the charade, he told the man, "Nah, they're turning away… No? they're coming back this way! Someone must be tracking you?"

Just then a dog yowled nearby causing the man to rush out onto the porch.

Pete used the knife to cut his bonds ,"Thank goodness for poachers – just this once!" He reached around the door frame to get his cane, but grabbed one of Marty's by mistake. Feeling the crook on top, he decided to use IT, then resumed his position just as the man came back in.

Pete didn't know who it was that was helping him, but he didn't dare call out and give him away. And since he couldn't see him, he just hoped that they would follow his lead – whoever they were … he hoped.

When the man returned Pete made a face then slumped over, moaning.

The man, annoyed and tense, approached cautiously, "Hey you!"

Pete continued to moan, listening as the man's footsteps came closer.

"Hey! Whatsa matter with you?"

When Jim could see that the man was close enough to Pete, he made a noise to distract him. Pete heard it and swung out with the cane at about where he thought the man's knees might be and felt the cane hook onto something resilient. He pulled hard and the man went down. Jim was up in a flash before the man hit the floor and grabbed the beaker with a fresh batch of hot tea and smashed it over the man's head. The man dropped the gun and howled in pain as the hot tea burned his face and down his neck.

Jim retrieved the gun and aimed it at the man, "Way to go, Mr. Thornton!"

Outside the cabin, MacGyver, out of breath and holding his arm, and Marty were about to enter the cabin when they heard the commotion inside. Marty dropped the sprayer and got the hatchet from the woodpile. Mac made a lasso out of the rope he'd been carrying, using his teeth to pull the knot tight.

They paused.

Mac counted, "On three: One… two…three!" And they charged into the room prepared for a fight, only to find Pete and Jim congratulating each other and the third man tied up in a corner.

Mac took in the scene in amazement, "Pete? Jim? Nice job, guys!"

Marty did the same, "YEAH! But how…? Uh, are you guys…?" and then noticed the blood on Jim's head, "Here, let me see that…Uh, I'll just tape that shut for now."

The man in the corner called out, "Hey! You the doc? Over here! I'm hurt!"

Marty glanced at the thug, then asked Jim, "What's the matter with him?"

Jim chuckled, cleaning up the tea," Um, too much of your tea, I think!"

Marty looked at the broken beaker from the tea and grinned, "My best tea-pot too!" He then turned to MacGyver, "You! Up on the table."

Mac still grinning, had found a straight chair to sit on, "Nah-I think I'll pass this time."

The thug was still whining, "Hey! What about me? This hurts!"

Marty ignored him and reached for a small green bottle from one of his cabinets before pulling up a chair next to MacGyver, "Look, Buddy, if you wait too long I may not be able to help you. That artery has come apart and is bleeding inside. It's what's called a compartment hemorrhage." When he touched the front of Mac's shoulder lightly, Mac recoiled and cried out, startled at the intensity of the pain. Mac held out his left hand in defense, nearly doubled over. "The pain is from the pressure…"

Mac nodded, scowling, "OK! OK!... I got the picture."

"Good. Let's get you up on the table…"

Mac complied, but had a pained expression, "This is kind of embarrassing…"

"Don't worry. You'll be asleep soon."

"Is that really necces…uhhh" And Marty caught him as he swooned and laid him down.

"Hello! Inside the cabin!" called a voice from outside. "Everything OK in there?"

Mac recovered and was trying to sit back up, "I'm OK, I just…"

Marty was holding him down while reaching for the green bottle, "No, you're not. Now keep still here," then louder toward the door, "Come on in, Sheriff. You're just in time."

The sheriff entered, looked around the room and whistled.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

I wasn't sure where to divide these last chapters, so I'll just end this one here… R & R!


	17. Chapter 17

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 17:

The sheriff entered the cabin and looked around at all the activity. One of the men he'd been chasing was sitting on the floor, moaning about burns on his face and neck; two men he'd never seen before were cleaning up some broken glass from the floor; in the middle of the room Dr. Fox was trying to treat a somewhat uncooperative patient.

Marty gave Mac three sips from the green bottle he was holding and waited as Mac gagged and coughed on the drug. Shaking his head with a smirk he told him, "You'll live. Just take it easy."

"Can you use a hand with anything, Doc?"

"Yeah. We can talk later, but for now you can take that piece of junk along with you, if you don't mind?"

The Sheriff crossed the room and undid the thug's feet before slapping handcuffs on him, "Sure thing, Doc. Come on, you."

"Hey! Wait a minute! I'm hurt!"

Marty looked up from MacGyver and told the sheriff, "He's been burned a little, so if you'd dunk him in the tub out by the pump, I'm sure he'll cool off!"

The thug protested and struggled to get away from the sheriff, "No! Wait!"

"Oh, by the way," the sheriff halted as he remembered something else, "We got the two you sent down the hill. Hah! We're building a pen to hold them in - outside. Thanks for the help!"

"You're welcome, Sir!...Say? have you seen my son around here anywhere?"

Billy suddenly appeared to the side of the doorway, "Right here, Doc!"

"Billy! Am I glad to see you! Get scrubbed and bring me…"

Just then Mac began to recover from his coughing, "Ugh! That stuff tastes TER- rib…Uh? Uh? Marty" He looked up at Marty and passed out.

"Pete? Jim? Could you wait outside? Or in your room, Please? Thanks. Billy? I'll need a standard kit, two vascular clamps, an airway…"

Oo00oo00oo00oo


	18. Chapter 18

The Hermit; a MacGyver story

By Judybear

Our favorite troubleshooter is out in the wilds of Minnesota making more trouble, of course, when he gets some help from a suspicious and unexpected source. Hurt/angst, adventure. I don't own MacGyver, Pete or Mac's jeep. The rest comes out of my own little brain. (Just an FYI: I have patterned "Doc" after Randolph Mantooth's characters.)

Chapter 18:

**AN:: **As tired as I am of writing this, I really hate to have it come to an end. But I am so glad that you guys liked it, and thank you for those amazing reviews! I am stunned and humbled. Thank you!

Later that evening, Pete, Jim (with his head bandaged), Billy and Marty were sitting around on the porch, drinking mugs of hot cider, talking. Billy was sitting cross-legged on the deck in front of Marty as Marty was roughing up his hair, "And THIS guy here… is my pride and joy! My wife died about seven years ago in a dumb accident. She just tripped on a rock and fell… broke her neck," he said, shaking his head. So he and I have been here ever since – until last year. He got a job in town and moved there - just to make sure he had no excuses for being late for work!"

"Aw, Doc!" he moaned as he ducked away from his father's hands.

Marty looked at the door , then got up and tapped Pete on the shoulder. Pete looked up and heard Marty enter the cabin and followed him. On the bed, Mac was restless, beginning to wake up, mumbling, " Mmnmno… Marty! Mnmno… uhh …"

Marty poured out some of the potion and set the cup on the side table before sitting on the side of Mac's bed. "I'm right here, Buddy."

Pete leaned over Marty's shoulder, "He has these nightmares sometimes…"

Marty half smiled, "I know."

Mac slowly opened his eyes, gradually focusing on Marty, then reached for him, "Marty."

Marty took his hand in both of his, "Hi there. How're you feeling?"

Mac slowly closed, then opened his eyes, "Ugh… tired." Then he looked around to find Pete. "Pete!"

Pete smiled at the sound of Mac's voice, "Hi, partner! Glad to have you back!"

Mac smiled weakly, "Say, Pete?"

Pete moved a little closer to Mac, on the other side of the bed. "I'm right here."

"Pete, this is Marty… Marty MacGyver Fox."

"Marty? THE Marty? The Marty you would never talk about? In your nightmares? But you said…"

"Pete, I didn't know he was… ugh… my brother…"

Pete scowled at Marty, looking daggers at him. "Your what? Your…? MacGyver, you'd better rest." And he pulled Marty aside. "What kind of drugs and lies have you been feeding him anyway?!"

Marty looked away for a moment, then back at Pete, "No lies. It's true."

Mac has been trying to get Pete's attention, despite not having much strength, "Pe-eete?…Pete!..." then he mustered all his strength, "PETE! Agh…" and Pete came over to him, still scowling but concerned. "Pete, it's OK. I've seen proof… my mother's handwriting. And I remember him. Pete, this IS Marty."

Pete looked at Marty, still very uncertain, "But your name is Fox?"

Marty shrugged and raised his eyebrows, "We're half-brothers. My grandfather used to call me 'Little Fox'. When I got older I just dropped the 'Little'."

Pete shook his head, looking from Marty to MacGyver and back again, "But… OK. I'm sorry, Dr. Fox. If MacGyver says you're OK, you're OK. I trust his judgment." Then he turned his head at the sound of Marty picking up Mac's medicine cup, "Say, just what's in that stuff?"

Mac and Marty exchanged glances, chuckling.

Pete looked at them, a bit peeved, "What now? Did I say something funny?"

Mac stopped chuckling long enough to tell him, "No, Pete, but you won't believe us."

"Hah! Try me! I don't think ANYTHING could surprise me now"

Marty looked at Mac and shrugged, "Rhus toxicodendron."

Mac filled in for him, "Poison Ivy, Pete."

Pete was incredulous. He despised being ridiculed, but that seemed to be what MacGyver and this Dr. Fox were trying to do! "Poi …!? Right. Funny, MacGyver. Very funny. Doctor?"

Marty shrugged, "Among other things."

Pete found his chair and sat, slowly shaking his head, "MacGyver, you do push the limits sometimes!"

Marty took the potion to his patient, "Um, I think this conversation should be continued after my patient has had some rest," He helped Mac to drink the potion, then turned to him, "By the way, Pete and I were talking, and we both feel that you need some time to heal, so starting right now, you're going to stay here and do NOTHING but rest … for at least TWO WEEKS!"

Mac looks from Marty to Pete with an expression of pleading and "Aw, No".

_Finis_

Thanks Everybody; that's it for this one! R & R, if you'd like. Next story up is "A Family Affair"


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